This Time Imperfect
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: The reason for his rebirth revealed, Sephiroth finds himself struggling against the dark path fate has given him. He finds unlikely support from among the dead: Aeris.
1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:** I don't own Final Fantasy or any of the affiliated characters.....this disclaimer applies to the story in its entirety.

***** 

_Breathe_

_Breathe again_

Awareness did not come easy. It was forced inside, a searing, shocking pain. Feeling where there was no feeling; senses where there had been none.

_Breathe_

A difficult feat. The painful blast of air into the confused lungs; the spasming coughs that followed.

_Live_

Alive. That's what it was. Being alive. The heart was beating now; the lungs had accepted the gift of air. Blood was coursing through the system, through the intricacies that were veins and arteries. Sensation, excruciating and slow, was spreading throughout. Something hard beneath, something loud all around.

_Live_

In one screaming rush everything fell into place. Limbs twitched, eyes opened and then shut again instantly under the harsh onslaught of brightness. A whimper as hard ground and sharp rocks cut into new tender flesh. New scents, strange and alien, registering within. Utter confusion, anxiety and cold, biting fear clouded the mind.

_What.........?_

_What is this?_

Shivering now, body new and unaccustomed to temperatures. Trying to shut out the mass of roiling chaotic thoughts reverberating in the mind; trying desperately to comprehend what was going on. Hesitantly the eyes opened again, degree by degree until the burning brightness became more tolerable. Still lying huddled, curled, against a cutting, abraisive surface. Vision hazy at first, then gaining focus. Rocks. That's what they see. Rocks and rocky ground, grey and more grey.

_Where am I....?_

_Who....?_

Realization of identity danced just beyond the reach of comprehensive thought. _I am he ..._ He knew that now, he was a man. Taking solace in that knowledge he slowly uncurled his body, limbs trembling. Every movement felt awkward, heavy, as if he had somehow been accustomed to fluid movement. But how could that be? The eyes, watering as newly opened eyes were want to do, swept over the surrounding area. More grey, more rocks, rising up and all around. Cradling him. He took a deep breath. So unfamiliar, this breathing, the smell of the air and the movement of it through his lungs. The wind roared through his ears and he winced. For long movements he sat in utter bewilderment, sorting through a turbulent mass of questions.

_Where.....?_

_Who am I....?_

He found no answers. Out of the buried knowledge from somewhere long ago he realized that he could no remain here; the cold and the wind would do him harm. _Stand,_ he told his body, and it wobbled and shook as it attempted to obey. When finally he had reached his feet he felt something soft and feathery brush against his back, his shoulders, the feeling intensifed over the naked skin because it was so fresh, so new. He looked down to find something silvery spilling over his shoulder, falling to his mid thigh. Confused he touched it, ran his fingers through it, on an unconcious level enjoying the texture. _Hair,_ the inexplicable knowledge told him, and he understood. It was hair, his hair. He let it fall from his fingers and gazed around, growing more and more uncomfortable as his body increased its tremors. He was in a bowl made of stone ... a crater, he knew, remembering what it was called. His brow furrowed. But why ... ? It did not matter now, get out of here, get someplace warm, his body told him, and he complied.

His first steps were faltering and shaky, but the more he took the steadier they became. The sharp rocks bit into his tender feet and he hissed in pain. He didn't want to continue but it was the only way out of the crater, and so he walked on. His feet grew quickly numb. He had only made it a few metres when something caught his attention. A glint of something silver, half buried in rock. He knelt clumsily to examine it, brushing the pebbles and rocks away. It was the remainder of some sort of blade; the long, black hilt and the shattered pieces of blade. He frowned. Why would a sword be here? Something flapped a few feet away, startling him so that he fell back on his haunches. It was something black, a piece of cloth. He crawled towards it, wincing as the rough ground bruised his hands and feet. He grabbed the loose piece of cloth and pulled; it came loose with some ease from the rocks it had been caught under. He held it up before him and it rippled in the wind. It was some sort of black coat, long and with the remainder of some metal buckles. It was ripped and threadbare, but still serviceable, if barely. He stood and with some difficulty managed to put it on. Where it covered him he ceased to feel the wind, and he was glad. His feet and hands were still exposed, but he felt better than he had. With unsteady hands he buttoned the coat and secured what few clasps were left. 

No longer naked, he turned his attention to the crater walls. They sloped steadily upward for a long way, but the incline was not too steep. It was as if some sort of explosion had leveled the area. He began walking again, to the incline and then up. He stopped frequently, his muscles aching and his lungs burning, protesting such use so briefly after his awakening. He ignored them, knowing logically that he could not survive in the crater. He continued on. The passage of time had no meaning for him; there was only steps taken, air breathed. When he finally reached the summit of the crater ledge, the sky had darkened to a dark orange brilliance, the sun a red orb as it sank below the horizon. He stared at the sight, fascinated. When he realized that it was getting darker; that soon all light would be gone, he shook his head. _Night_ he remembered from unknown memories, _Night is falling._ He looked before him. The descent down the other side of the crater was not as long a distance, and he could barely make out some sort of buildings in the dying light clustered below him. Heartened by the sight, he began his way down. 

By the time he had reached the bottom, the sky was dark. There was a moon, almost full and surrounded by the brilliant stars. For long moments he forgot himself and gazed at them in awe. They were beautiful, and mysterious, and they raised in him some sort of emotion ...

He felt something cold run down his face and touched a finger to it. It came away sparkling with moisture. Alarmed, he touched both hands to his face to find his cheeks wet. What was happening to him?

_Tears,_ he remembered suddenly, _these are my tears._

He stared entranced at the night sky for some minutes longer before remembering the buildings. They were closer now, and since his vision had adjusted he could see them clearly. There was a light in one of the windows, and it was towards that one he walked. The door was wooden and free of markings, and he hesitated only briefly before raising a hand and knocking. Almost immediately it opened, and a dark haired young man stood there. His eyes widened as he took in his visitor's appearance, and he opened the door wide.

"Come in, my god, come in!" He ushered the other inside and closed the door behind them. "What happened to you?"

The other had no answer, because he did not know. The young man had pulled some things off a small bed to make room for the visitor to sit. "Come, sit here. You must be freezing! And your feet are bleeding! What happened to you?"

The visitor tried to speak and was surprised to find he had no voice. He coughed and tried again, and when the words were formed they were hoarse and strained, sounding harsh to his ears. "I ... don't know ..."

"You don't know? Just who are you?"

The other shook his head in frustration, saying again, " I don't know ..."

"My God, " the young man breathed, "You have no memory ... Do you remember anything?"

His visitor shook his head. His own confusion was evident on his face.

"Well, where did you come from just now?"

"The ... crater ..." he said haltingly, the words he wanted jumbling together in his mind. " I ...woke up ... there."

The young man frowned. "The crater? Are you sure?"

"Yes ..."

The young man was silent, regarding the other intently. Finally he said, "My name is Rad. I'm part of a survey team that's up here to monitor the mako levels in the crater. That's what all these buildings are for, for our equipment. The others went back down for supplies today, and they won't be back until tomorrow. I don't know what to think about you ..." he trailed off, then apparently made a decision. "You can stay here with me tonight. This crater does funny things to people and animals; I've seen it all. You must have wandered up there and had a fall or something ... maybe you were a climber. Maybe you were taken up there for a reason," he said darkly, "and that explains why you don't have or remember anything ..."

He glanced at his vistor's feet, covered now in dried blood. "We had better do something about those. Your feet look to be my size, so I'll give you an old pair of my boots. Are you wearing anything beneath that coat?"

The visitor shook his head. Rad pursed his lips, "Well, you look a little taller than me and broader in the shoulders, but I have some clothes that will suffice until you can get some of your own. I'll be right back."

With that he went through a door on the opposite wall from the bed. The visitor could hear him rummaging around in the next room. He closed his eyes; it was warm in here and it felt so soothing. He was glad he had found someone; he didn't feel quite so alone and afraid. Rad returned with the clothes as well as some gauze bandages. He said, handing them to his visitor, "Take these and go into the other room and change. Then you can use the bathroom in there to fix your feet. I'll make something for you to eat while you're doing that."

The other accepted the bundle and stood. He said gratefully, "Thank you."

Rad smiled, " No problem. I think you were on the recieving end of somebodies ill will, and I don't mind helping you out."

He turned away, and for the first time the visitor noticed a small stove in the corner along with some pots that hung on the walls and shelves with various food items. He went into the other room and shut the door. It was another small bedroom, with a bathroom on one side. He went into the bathroom and turned on the light. What he saw there startled him, until he realized it was a mirror. He studied himself for long minutes, the sharp, defined features, the pale complexion, the high, definitive brows. His eyes were what caught and held his attention; they were large and luminous and seemingly expressive; a glowing emerald color. He set about mending his wounds, perching on the toilet seat to examine the extent of the damage to his feet. They were scraped, with some shallow cuts, which he washed out and then bound with the gauze Rad had given him. He then removed the coat and donned the clothes he had been given. The shirt was stretched tight across his chest and the pants were too short, but they were clothes, and that was all that mattered. He opted to out the coat back on over the clothes before leaving to find Rad. Rad had made soup enough for the two of them, and the visitor gladly accepted. He found the food to be one of the most pleasing things he had discovered thus far; it was warm and it tasted so very interesting. He ate two servings, listening as Rad companionably chatted away. After the meal, the visitor found it hard ot keep his eyes open; a full stomach, the warm comfort of the room and the day's exertions were catching up to him. Seeing this, Rad smiled and told him to sleep in the other bedroom. Mumbling a polite thank you, he made his way there. After closing the door, he pulled back the layers of blankets and crawled beneath them, nestling his head on the pillow. Aware that the lights were still on, but too tired to care, he fell almost instantly into sleep. 

He began to dream.


	2. Echoes

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Special thanks to Amarie and JessAngel. I had decided that if I didn't get any reviews I wan't gonna finish it, so it's because of you I continue......even more thanks because this is my first FF fic, and they took a gamble on me ^_^ 

**PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING!!** I know there are millions of Sephiroth resurrection stories. He's one of the coolest villians ever; naturally people want to know more about him. And I know that this has been said before, but I'm trying to do something different. I always wondered what Sephiroth would be like without Jenova's taint, so this is my way of trying to figure it out. Obviously his own ambition is what set him on the path to what he became, but can a person be evil if they don't know who they are? I can't really explain any more without revealing the plot, which is something I am trying not to do. Please bear with me, and if you have any questions or ideas, please email me at sol_strakes@hotmail.com, because I want people to like this story and I need feedback to do it!

***** 

He was drifting.

No sensation, no sound, no feeling. Just the knowledge that he was existing, neither alive nor dead. Hovering just beyond the edge of both. Eons had passed, or perhaps years, it didn't matter. Not here. Not in this place. Some part of his mind knew that he didn't belong here, that he was destined elsewhere. Slowly the realization grew that he was trapped here, forever, and something akin to panic began to spread through him. He was remembering now, memories flowing through him and he knew with utter grim realization that there was no way to leave this place, that he had been sent here for that reason. An intense urgency he couldn't comprehend was eating away at him.

He couldn't stay here. He had to leave. He had to belong somewhere ...

**-NO-**

The cry thundered through his thoughts, and had he been able to vocalize his pain he would have.

**- You belong here ... -**

_No!_ He thought desperately, _No I don't, I don't -_

**- ... damned yourself -**

Something was stirring in the depths of his memory, struggling to surface. He clutched at it, trying desperately to understand what he had done, what had happened that he found himself here, suspended in limbo, in a place where he was neither living nor dead. Like quicksilver it slid from his grasp and spiralled into the darkening chasm that was rapidly growing in his mind. He knew then that there was no greater punishment than what he was experiencing; existing her in this void that defied all thought.

_ LET ME GO_ He howled to the stillness, the nothingness.

**- ... belong here ... -**

_I can't! I don't! _

Agitated, he searched through thoughts, through his entire being for the answer to this terrible question. He was no longer capable of comprehensive thought; everything was a churning, chaotic mass of battling voices intent on driving him mad.

**- ... sealed your fate ... -**

**- ... belong here ... -**

_ No!_

**- ... never leave ... -**

**- ... damned ... -**

_No ... _

**- ... cannot fight ... -**

**- You damned yourself ... -**

**- ... sealed your own fate ... -**

**- ... your penance ... -**

And the one screaming wail, louder and so full of some turbulent emotion that it terrified him ... 

**- SEPHIROTH -**

***** 

He sat bolt upright, chest heaving. It took him several moments to realize where he was, that he had been dreaming. He raised his hand before his face to find, in the dim light of the overhanging light bulb, that it was trembling violently. He swallowed loudly, and closed his eyes. He could still hear the harsh anguish in the last tremendous cry, could still feel the sorrow, the guilt, the horror it had created in him. He slid out from beneath the blankets and padded into the bathroom. He switched on the light and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was wet from tears that he hadn't known he'd been crying. He was pale, and there were dark shadows beneath them. His thick mass of silver hair was twisted and knotted as if he'd been thrashing in his sleep. He gazed at the eyes that in turn gazed back, wondering at what he saw there. In their green depths he saw shadows lurking, the remnants of his nightmare. He raised his hand and pressed it to the mirror.

_ Who am I?_

There was no answer, and his reflection smiled bitterly at his foolish hope that there would be. He sighed, overwhelmed. He needed to know who he was, why he was here. He understood nothing other than the fact that he was alive, and didn't even have a reason for that. He lowered his hand and sighed again.

**-SEPHIROTH-**

That word ... a name? It was still echoing in his head from his dream, and he was likely never to forget it. A thought occured to him; he watched his eyes darken in the mirror as he mulled it over in his mind.

_ A name ... my name?_

He had no way of knowing. It didn't sound familiar, but then, nothing did. It was merely a word, a sound. But it had been in his dream, and the dream was not something he would take lightly. Not that dream, not that awful voice screaming that one word ...

He shut off the light abruptly and left the bathroom. He switched off the overhead room light before crawling once again between the blankets. Arms crossed beneath his head he stared pensively into the dark. It was a long time before he fell asleep again.

***** 

When next he woke, it was to the sound of voices. He was lying on his stomach, sleepily he rolled over and listened. Rad's voice, and too others, both higher. Rad's work companions? Thin rays of light trickled through a small window above his head, blocked out for the most part by a heavy curtain. He yawned and stretched before getting out of the bed and heading for the small shower in the bathroom. For a moment he was baffled by the complexity of the showerhead and the faucets, but again the knowledge from the unknown source within him prevailed, and soon he was enjoying the feel of hot water beating away the tension and fear of the previous night. During his shower he pondered his dream and its significance, its meaning. After the shower he donned his clothes and dried his hair as best he could with the towel provided before letting it fall down his back in damp waves. He left his coat on the bed before opening the door to the main area.

"Good morning!" Rad said cheerfully, catching sight of him from where he sat on the small bed. "How was your sleep?"

"Fine," he lied quietly. The other two in the room had turned to look at him as soon as he had caught Rad's attention. One was another man, slightly taller than Rad but of the same ageHe was bearded and sandy haired. The other was a girl, small and petite, with pale hair. At the sight of him her eyes widened alarmingly. 

"Hello," Said the new young man warmly, "I'm Shayn. Rad told us all about you. This is Ailee," he gestured to the girl. She said nothing, merely stared at him a second longer before bolting out the door. Rad and Shayn frowned at each other in confusion.

"Girls," huffed Rad. "I'll go see what's the matter with her. Shayn, could you give our guest some breakfast?"

"Sure thing," Shayn replied, moving to get the food as Rad left them. The visitor sat down where Rad had been sitting politely answered all of Shayn's curious questions. His mind was on the girl; what had he done to frighten her so? Several minutes later Rad entered again, chuckling. 

"What's her problem?" Shayn asked, handing the vistor a plate of what looked to be pancakes.

"Get this: She thinks he's Sephiroth. "

Shayn snorted. The visitor nearly dropped his plate. He struggled to keep his astonishment and confusion from his face, but the other two were too busy laughing to notice his expressions.

"That's our Ailee," Shayn said ruefully, "Ever the wild imagination. I'd better go to talk to her."

Rad shook his head with a smile as Shayn left. He caught a glimpse of the look on the visitor's face and said, "Don't let Ailee's behaviour bother her. She's a little strange sometimes."

"Rad, " the other said carefully, "Who is Sephiroth?"

Disbelief passed over Rad's face, "Don't tell me you don't know who ... I forgot, you have no memory," He sighed and loaded a plate of his own with food from the pan on the stove. He sat down beside the other. "It's a long story, and I don't know all of it ... it happened six years ago. But," he added, seeing the interest on the other's face, "I'll tell you what I can."

In between mouthfuls, he began his story. The other ate very little, more interested in what Rad had to say. As the story progressed, something cold settled in the pit of his stomach. It was not a happy story, but a violent one. The more he heard the worse he began to feel. As Rad trailed off finally, some time later, he found himself frantically praying that what he suspected was not true.

"There's quite a bit I don't know," Rad said, standing and taking the other's plate and piling it into the small sink along with his own. "I was pretty young at the time. If you're more interested, you might want to check out a library somewhere once you get off this mountain. Which reminds me; I think we might have found a way to get your memory back. Shayn mentioned some sort of doctor in Kalm that specializes in supressed memories and amnesia. I think he uses mako energy for healing, or something. That seems to be all the rage these days. If you're interested, Shayn can take you there. He has to leave again this afternoon to head back to his home. He's on vacation for the next week and he's going home to Nibelheim."

"That would be fine," the visitor said, his thoughts elsewhere. "Rad ... do I look like this.....Sephiroth?"

Rad turned and regarded the other for a moment, "I guess you might," he said finally, "Your hair is kinda the same, I think. But his eyes glowed because of the Mako infusions he received in SOLDIER, at least that's what they say. I never saw him myself, and you'd be hard pressed to find someone who has. Most didn't survive the encounter. Besides," he said with a slight smile, "Sephiroth is dead. No one knows where or how he died; everyone was pretty hush hush after the whole Meteor ordeal. I would imagine Shinra is keeping quite a bit of what happened under wraps."

The other frowned. He had heard Rad mention this Meteor in his talk about Sephiroth, but not Shinra. "What is Shinra?"

"It's a corporation, a huge one, that deals in Mako energy. I can't tell you much more than that, though, because they're pretty secretive about what they do. I definetly think you should check out a library once you're off this mountain." 

"I will," the other said, having already made up his mind to do so. Shayn came back, still chuckling about Ailee's "asinine" idea about their visitor being the great Sephiroth. Shayn asked the other if he wanted to accompany him off the mountain and back to the mainland, to which he agreed. Two hours later, which the visitor spent listening to the conversational banter of the two young men, Shayn declared they were ready to leave. Rad walked them outside to the vehicle they would be using to descend down the mountain. The visitor stared at it, fascinated. It was large and consisted of six wheels, and when started it roared like a beast. Laughing at the visitor's expression, Rad bid him farewell and told him to come and visit once he remembered who he was. The visitor responded he would, and genuinely hoped his suspiscions were wrong so that he could fulfill his promise. Rad had proven kind and helpful when he had been in desperate need of assistance. Ailee refused to come and say goodbye, and without much further ado, they began their descent.

After talking for several minutes, a companionable silence fell between Shayn and his passenger. As Shayn concentrated on manouvering the vehicle, aptly dubbed "the crawler", the other began sorting through his muddled thoughts. When they reached he base of the mountain a couple hours later, he had come to his conclusion.

He could be Sephiroth. The dream, coupled with the girl's insistence that he was indeed the infamous figure, could not be denied their facts. It explained, however little, the situation he found himself in. It didn't explain his loss of memory, or his awakening in the crater, but he couldn't deny it. The dream was more than just a dream, he knew, and it had given him back his name. The realization brought a sick feeling to him, because after everything Rad had told him about Sephiroth he didn't want the identity. There were so many unanswered questions he had that must be answered. 

Why was he alive again?

What had given him life?

He squared his jaw resolutely, unaware that as he did so his eyes glinted. He would unravel the truth, no matter what it took.

And it would begin with the search for knowledge for anything to do with Sephiroth.


	3. Learning

Learning about himself was not an easy task. After arriving by ship to the mainland, Shayne had taken him to Kalm. Before leaving to his own hometown, he had handed his companion a leather pouch that jingled when placed in his hands. At the other's questioning glance, Shayne smiled. "It's money," he said, "From Rad and I. After losing your memory you shouldn't have to start out with nothing. There's a fair amount in there; we make a lot of money doing what we do. It should keep you for a few months."

The other had expressed his gratitude, which was heartfelt. Shayne had departed the next morning, leaving him alone once again in a world he knew nothing about. He realized that his appearance would hinder him; that others may recognize him as Ailee had, and he needed anonymity until he knew for certain who he was and why he was back. He had taken to wearing his hair in a braid that fell to past his tailbone, and always tucked it underneath the long coat that Shayne had also given him. The coat had a large hood, and whenever he could he drew it up so that his face was hidden deep within the cowl. His hope was fragile, and he didn't really expect to find out much in Kalm. He had to start somewhere, though, and this was as good as place as any.

Especially, he had thought with a self deprecating smile, for someone like himself. After discreetly questioning the innkeeper about where he could find some information about the Meteor ordeal, pretending he was a distant foreigner, he was directed to the local library. The library, a new addition to the town and built some distance from the inn. The walk was scenic, and he found the quaint, cobblestoned village to be pleasing to the eye. The librarian had directed him to section in the back of the library without so much as a second glance. He had stared around for a moment at the shelves and shelves of books; finally, with a resignated sigh he set to work.

For five days he studied at the library from early morning to when the library closed in mid evening. His constant presence did earned him some curious glances from the librarian, but nothing was said. He read about the great SOLDIER general known as Sephiroth; of his immense power and the noticable changes that set him apart from other humans, that made him unique. He read that it was rumored that Sephiroth had gone mad in a place called Nibelheim for unknown reasons. Further reading revealed the supposed reason; The Mount Nibel Mako reactor had in fact been harboring a creature called Jenova, and it had been used to infuse humans, members of SOLDIER, with Jenova's essence. The end result were monsters; twisted, deformed, and powerful. Sephiroth had believed his mother to be Jenova, and upon discovering the true purpose of the Nibel reactor had reasoned that he had been created much in the way of the monsters. The knowledge drove him past all logic; and the Sephiroth people feared had been born.

All information past that point was merely a collection of rumors and heresay. Sephiroth had been rumored to have died; he reappeared five years later and murdered President Shinra. He liberated Jenova from the laboratories of Shinra, and began his mission for what people at the time thought was world domination. Only, it wasn't the real Sephiroth; it was a clone, and there were many of them, all created by some man named Hojo in an attempt to perfect the Jenova Strain. The real Sephiroth was frozen in elemental ice in a crater in the Gaea cliffs.

_A crater ..._

Information became more and more incomplete. There was a great deal about a Cetra, and Holy, and more mention of Meteor that he couldn't understand without knowing all the details. There was one name mentioned in almost all of the texts dealing with the Meteor incident, and that name was Cloud Strife. A former member of Soldier, he read, that had accompanied Sephiroth and it was rumored that Cloud had struck Sephiroth down in the Mt. Nibel reactor, effectively disabling him. Five years later, upon the "return" of Sephiroth, it was Cloud Strife who led a small band of people in an effort to thwart Sephiroth's attempts. It was also rumored that Cloud himself was one of Hojo's Sephiroth clones, one that had created an indentity and persona to call his own.

He was intrigued. It sounded as if this person knew more about Sephiroth than all these books combined. It was logical to assume that no matter where he went he likely would not find any more information than he just had; the facts had been shrouded to well. If he could speak to this Cloud Strife ...

He sighed. It was likely that his appearance would not be welcomed. 

On his last night in the library, he approached the librarian. As the elderly man watched him curiously, he asked, "I'm curious to know ... would you have any ... pictures of Sephiroth?"

The librarian snorted. "Of course we do. We have one of the most famous pictures of him. Well, it's a copy, but it's still famous. Follow me."

He followed the shambling librarian to a different section of the library. The shelves in this part were filled with large folders. The librarian unerringly found the one he sought, pulled it out, and began rifling through it. "We get a lot of people wanting to look at this one," he said as he pulled it out and handed it to the other.

He felt as though he'd been hit in the stomach. Staring imperiously back at him from the photo was an exact mirror image of himself. He was clad in a black long coat with various pieces of armor attached to it. He carried an immense sword on his back. He was not alone in the picture, there was a girl and a man with wild black hair, but his attention was for the silver haired man alone.

_Sephiroth._

Himself.

He mumbled a thank you to the librarian and swiftly left the building. Once safely back in his room at the inn he moved to stand before the large mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He stared at himself. Everything was undeniably the same as the man in the picture; the height, the build, the face. The eyes, however, they were different. Where Sephiroth's had glowed from his Mako infusions, and most likely because of his Jenova taint as well, his own were merely eyes. They were vibrant green but had no other glow. Despite that he could no longer deny the facts.

He was Sephiroth. Undeniably, unmistakably Sephiroth.

And he was alive.

He sat down on the bed numbly. All he had learned in the last few days reeled inside his mind. He rested his head in his hands wearily, trying to drown out the confusion. He thought about his eyes, and realized what it meant. It meant that this time, in this new life, he was human. There were no strange cells in his genetics that made him other than human, no matter how slight the difference. There was no mako in his blood. 

He was completely and utterly human. He took some solace in the fact, and turned his attention to other matters at hand.

Cloud Strife. Last rumored to be in residence in the city of Midgar.

He began undressing and preparing for bed. In the morning, he would leave Kalm, and begin his journey to Midgar, to Cloud Strife. He knew it was a dangerous move, but he had no other choice. 

He had to know.


	4. Reunion

He was nervous.

He was aboard a train that ran through the countryside, connecting rural and urban areas. He sat alone in a booth, hooded and shrouded in black. The train had few passengers, and he was relieved. The conductor had just announced over the intercom that they were only a few minutes from their destination.

Their destination.

Midgar.

He tried to calm his turbulent emotions, to soothe the apprehension raging within him. Midgar was crucial to him. There was so much more he needed to know; he was positive that that knowledge lay in Midgar. Before he'd left Kalm he'd looked up the name Cloud Strife in the continental directory. It had given him a photo, the current address of Cloud Strife, and had also told him that Cloud Strife was partial owner of a bar in the upper plate of Midgar called Seventh Heaven. Being as it was nearing nightfall, he had decided to check Seventh Heaven for the one he sought before going to the current address. The train began to slow; he looked out the window at the large mass looming before him. He'd heard from people he'd asked that while once the lower levels of Midgar had been inhabited, since the Meteor incident more and people had been able to leave the slums and enter the upper levels. The train rolled to a stop in a station in the lower levels; they were eventually ushered off and into a lift that took them to the actual city. He avoided the curious gazes of everyone trying to pierce the shadows of the hood; he knew that he would be recognized more in this city than any other place he had been thus far. The lift went up and up, and it was some time when it came to a halt. He followed his fellow passengers off the lift and stepped into the city.

A city at dusk, no matter the pollution, is often a sight to see at night. He stopped now and gazed at the vast array of sparkling lights turning on at the beginnings of night. There was noise all around him, at first a little intimidating, but something he quickly got used to. He looked around for the method of urban transportation ... a cab ... and hailed the next one he saw.

"Seventh Heaven," he said as he slid inside and closed the door.

"Gotcha," said the driver without bothering to look at his passenger.

It was a short drive, and he quickly lost himself in the turns they made. They pulled up to a building, small and with a glowing blue sign that read _Seventh Heaven._ He mumbled his thanks and counted out the fare from the his money pouch, and left the vehicle. As it sped away, he stared at the building, fighting the urge not to run back the direction he had come.

It was the only way.

With that thought he steeled his nerve and drew his hood further over his face. The image he presented was of a tall man, face and body hidden beneath the folds of a nondescript black coat. Breathing deep, he walked up the few stairs and pushed the door open.

Every sense he had was assailed at once. Noise rushed out to surround him, along with the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. Music was playing, fast and upbeat and a little loud, and there was the dull roar of voices. He stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. Very few took note of his entrance, most were engaged in conversations or playing pool at one of the numerous tables spread throughout the bar. Opposite of where he stood was the bar, stretching several feet. He realized he was standing dumbly in one spot, gawking, and moved to take a shadowy booth in a far corner. Once seated, he began looking for the one he sought. His eyes moved from one person to the next; he held his breath in nervous hope.

"Can I get you something?"

He jumped, startled. Standing before him was a woman with long brown hair tied back and friendly dark eyes. She smiled at him apologetically. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Can I get you a drink?"

"No, thank you," he said. For a moment her gaze seemed to try and penetrate the shadows of his hood, and he moved farther into the booth. She then shrugged, smiled again, and walked away. He watched her leave and then turned his attention back to searching for Cloud Strife.

He almost missed him. He was sitting in a dark corner much the same as his own, and was by himself. He had a drink in front of him, and his eyes travelled idly over the assembled crowd. Every now and then someone would say something to him, and he would smile slightly or nod or say something before returning to his surveillance. He was as the information photo had presented him; lean and muscled with unruly blonde hair and blue eyes that glowed, even in the dim lighting, with the traces of Mako.

The other released the breath he had been holding. He wanted to approach Cloud Strife now, wanted the information only he could give. He knew he couldn't, because when he finally did there was no denying that there would be a scene. So he settled into his booth to wait.

The hours passed. He watched the others around him, slightly jealous at the way they enjoyed themselves, the way they had a life they never questioned. He knew he could never do that, not knowing what he did. It made him feel slightly less than human, as if in missing that aspect of existance he lost part of his identity. He snorted silently at that thought. What identity did he have? None other than what he had learned through heresay and books, and he wasn't entirely certain he wanted that one. What a hand fate had played, giving him back the life he most likely didn't deserve to live! His expression, unseen by anyone, darkened. After he had sufficient knowledge about who he was, the next step was discovering why he was alive.

Closing time approached. People began to slowly filter out. Soon the bar was empty, but for himself, the woman, and Cloud Strife. She approached him with the same friendly expression she'd worn before. "I'm sorry, Sir, but we're closing now, and you'll have to leave."

"I'm here to speak with Cloud Strife," he said. Her smile faded, and she glanced over her shoulder to where Cloud sat watching them intently.

"Just a second," she said, and walked to Cloud. They conferred for a moment. Cloud stood and made his way over to the booth, the girl close behind.

"You want to speak with me?" Cloud Strife said, looking at the other curiously.

"Yes," he replied, and then said urgently, "Alone."

The woman frowned.

"Please," he said, "I must speak to him alone."

She opened her mouth to object, but Cloud waved her away. She gave him a look that clearly didn't agree with the decision, but she moved away and left the room by way of a back door. Cloud looked back to the other. "Mind if I sit?"

"Please do," Replied the other. Cloud slid into the booth. He watched the other expectantly. 

"What do you need to talk to me about?"

The other hesitated. This was the moment of truth ... if he revealed himself he may not make it out of this bar alive. But he had to know!

He swallowed heavily. His hands, shaking slightly, rose and pushed back the hood.

Cloud paled. His hands gripped the tabletop.

"Sephiroth!" He whispered, "You're dead!"

"I was," the other said quietly, "But I'm back. And I don't know why."


	5. Convictions

***** 

"Sephiroth!" Cloud whispered. "You're dead!"

"I was," he replied quietly, "But I'm back. And I don't know why."

***** 

"How is this possible?" Cloud asked in utter stupification.

"Please believe me, I don't know."

"You're alive, " Cloud repeated. Suddenly realization filled his face, followed by alarm. Sitting before him was his nemesis, the one who had destroyed so much without a second thought ... He shouted out for the girl and swiftly slid out of the booth. She came barging through the back door. Upon catching sight of them both, she stopped dead in her tracks, the blood draining from her face.

"Sephiroth ..."

Cloud moved to stand protectively in front of her. He had pulled a small blade from somewhere and was holding it before him. The light glinted off several pieces of materia attached to the pommel. "Why are you here?" He demanded. Anger and fear were playing across his features. The girl seemed to have regained her senses and had grabbed the nearest thing to her for a weapon; a large empty alcohol bottle.

"Please ... I'm not here to harm you ..." He stood slowly, to stand before them.

Cloud snorted, an anguished sound. "What could you possibly be here for, then? All you've ever done is destroy ..."

Sephiroth shook his head. "Listen to me, please. I don't know why I'm back or how -"

"Because you're full of Jenova's taint!" Cloud spat. "Because everything inside you is unnatural and evil!"

He hefted the blade as if to attack, and Sephiroth held his hands out pleadingly before him. "Not anymore ... Look at my eyes ... I have none of that within me anymore. Please ..."

Cloud snarled unintelligbly. The girl laid her hand on his arm, and stepped in front of him, ignoring his protest. She stared at Sephiroth for long moments, her gaze intense. Finally she said, "Cloud ... look at his eyes."

Cloud's grip on his blade tightened, but he complied. Green eyes, normal green without any unusual radiance, stared beseechingly back at him. Emotion was roiling within them, but they were free of malice, free of pride. They were simple human eyes. Degree by degree he lowered his sword until the point rested on the floor. 

"Why are you here?" He asked again. "Why have you come back?"

"I awoke in a crater," Sephiroth began, "Without any idea who I was."

He told them his story then, as they stood warily before him. He was beyond relieved that they had listened to him, that they had seen no trace of the man they once knew within him. They listened in silence, not questioning, until he came to the end. An uncomfortable silence fell as his words trailed off.

"I know its hard to believe," he said finally, "But it's true. I don't know why I'm here, and up until a couple of days ago I didn't know who I was."

"The crater you woke up in, " Cloud said heavily, "is the crater where you died. Where I killed you."

Sephiroth looked up sharply at this. "You ... killed me?"

"Yes," Cloud said harshly, "And I'd do it again."

"I cannot blame you for something I don't remember," Sephiroth said. "I know you hate me, and from what I've been able to discern that hatred is well deserved. I cannot prove to you that I am not the person you remember; you must learn that on your own. All I ask is that you tell me everything that you know about me. About Sephiroth."

Cloud was quiet a long time. "Why should I?" He asked finally. "What good can telling you that do?"

"I need to know," Sephiroth whispered.

Cloud made a frustrated sound and abruptly sheathed his blade. "Understand something," he growled, "about who you were. You were ruthless; a murderer. You went to such extreme lengths to achieve power that you endangered the entire planet. And you didn't care. You have no right to be given life again, none. You slaughtered someone very important to me in cold blood. If you think for one minute I will trust you then you are very, very wrong."

Sephiroth said nothing, merely nodded his understanding. Cloud sighed and returned to his seat across from him, and Tifa slid in next to him. "What do you need to know?"

"Everything. About me. About you, and how you know me. Tell me everything."

As Cloud began to speak, Sephiroth lost himself in the words, hanging on to every one. Cloud began by making it clear that the rumors of him being a clone were false; he had indeed been human. He had left Nibelheim at the age of thirteen to join SOLDIER, but failed to get in and instead became a lowly MP officer. Cloud did, however, make friends with a man in SOLDIER named Zack. Zack and Cloud, along with the great Sephiroth, had been sent to Nibelheim to inspect the mako reactor there. Jenova had been inside the reactor, and Sephiroth had gone mad at the realization that he was, in fact, some type of experiment which involved Jenova cells. In a confrontation between Cloud and Sephiroth, Sephiroth was wounded and thrown into the lifestream. Zack and Cloud had then been arrested by Shinra for the murder of their great General; in an attempt to create soldiers as powerful as Sephiroth, whom they presumed dead, they injected both Zack and Cloud with Jenova cells and exposed them to extreme amounts of Mako. Zack didn't react to the treatment, but Cloud did, and shortly after they escaped. Zack was killed, and Cloud made his fallen friend's identity as his own. It was because of the Jenova cells that he had been injected with that Sephiroth could control Cloud. 

Five years after that incident, Sephiroth had again been sighted. However, the real Sephiroth was encased in materia in the northern cliffs - very near the crater where he met his demise. The lifestream had carried him that far after Cloud had thrown him in. Because he was within materia that considerably amplified his power, Sephiroth was able to send out a "shadow" copy of himself into the world to do his bidding. It was this "shadow" that had killed President Shinra, and had slain the last surviving Ancient, Aeris, as well.

As Cloud mentioned Aeris, his eyes became clouded, and his voice held great sorrow. He paused for a moment, reflecting, before continuing his tale.

It had been the Jenova Project, headed first by Professor Gast and later by Hojo, that had been the ultimate catalyst for the events that became known as the Meteor Incident. Gast had discovered Jenova in a 2000 year old geological stratum and had wrongly assumed she was an Ancient. Jenova was, in fact, an alien life form that, upon impact with the planet, had infected all the Cetra, or Ancients, with a virus that eventually transformed them into monsters. Gast injected Jenova cells into the unborn child of Hojo and his wife Lucrezia, and ultimately Sephiroth was thus born. Gast also used the Jenova cells to create the elite faction of SOLDIER; injecting the members to increase their power.

Sending his shadow self to liberate Jenova from the Shinra laboratories, Sephiroth set about gathering all he needed to summon Meteor. His reason for doing this was simple; he would be at the point of impact between the planet and Meteor. The planet would gather all its healing energy to that point, and Sephiroth would reap the benefits. The only way to stop Meteor was an Ancient power called Holy and the White materia. Knowing that she was the only one able to summon Holy, the one called Aeris left her comrades behind to journey to the forgotten City of the Ancients. Unbeknownst to her, Sephiroth knew of her intentions and dispatched his shadow. Aeris was slain in the center of the City of the Ancients, and was laid to rest by Cloud in a pure lake infused with the lifestream within the center of the city. Manipulating the Jenova cells in Cloud's body, Sephiroth took from him the tool to summon Meteor, the Black Materia. As he began his summons, the planet dispatched its own guardians, enormously powerful creatures called Weapons, to try and deal with the threat. However, Sephiroth sank deep beneath the surface, into the very bowels of the crater.

With Meteor summoned it seemed that nothing could be done. It was discovered, however, that Aeris had managed to summon Holy, but Sephiroth was somehow blocking it from destroying Meteor. Cloud and his small group of companions took it upon themselves to descend into the crater and confront Sephiroth there. Jenova confronted them first, and upon her destruction they battled with Sephiroth. He had grown immensely more powerful, and the Jenova cells within his body had caused certain mutations. In the end, however, Sephiroth faced Cloud in his human form, and was struck down. As he died the lifestream erupted, and he was lost within it. Holy was freed and destroyed Meteor, but the aftermath of the battle had left it's scars on both the planet and the people.

"That's where it ended," Cloud concluded. "Up there, in the crater, we destroyed you."

Sephiroth remained quiet, absorbing what he had just been told.

"Do you remember anything?" Tifa ventured to ask, "Anything before the crater?"

He shook his head, "No, nothing. But there's a dream I have -" He stopped abruptly, the pieces falling into place.

He had been absorbed into the lifestream as he died.

In his dream he was floating, weightless, in some unrecognizable limbo. And the voices -

The lifestream was the blood of the planet. It held the voices of the planet.

He felt the blood drain from his face. The voices, telling him he belonged there, that he had damned himself; it had been the planet speaking to him, condemning him to an eternity in the essence of its life. That had been his punishment, as meted out by the planet, for attempting what he had. 

But he had been set free.

He told them then of the dream, of the voices, of his realization. "But why?" Cloud demanded again.

"Perhaps I have been forgiven ..." Sephiroth said, but even as he said it knew it to be untrue. The screams in his nightmare held no room for forgiveness. 

"Has any of this," Tifa waved her hand to indicate their discussion, "jogged any memories of before?"

"No. Nothing. I recollect nothing."

"Then it's for the best," Cloud said.

"Was I despicable," Sephiroth asked suddenly, curiously, "Before I knew of Jenova? Before Nibelheim?"

Cloud slowly shook his head. "No. You were proud, and arrogant, but you were human, and you acted human. You were almost," he said with some wistfulness, "my friend."

"Then why," Sephiroth asked earnestly, "Can I not be that now?"

Cloud regarded him thoughtfully. "I don't know," He said finally, "I think because I can never forget what you have done. If it even was you."

"I could not do those things."

"No," Cloud agreed, surprising him, "I don't think you could."

"Maybe there is some way for us to help him remember," Tifa suggested, resting her chin in her hand, " Some place we could take him, some sight we show him."

Cloud closed his eyes. Visions of Aeris crumpling before him raced through his head. _Aeris_ he called silently, as he often did when lost, or unsure. Her beauty, the beauty of the Ancients themselves, all lost because of the man sitting before him; the man who wore the face of an enemy but held the soul of a stranger.

It came to him then, unbidden. He opened his eyes. "Tomorrow, Sephiroth, you and I are going on a journey. Someplace I am sure you will remember."

"Cloud," Tifa frowned, "Where ... ?"

"The City of the Ancients," he said. "Perhaps there we can find something, some enlightenment as to why he walks among us again."

Sephiroth sat back, pondering.

The City of the Ancients.

He had now the knowledge of who he had been. He would go now in search of who he was to be, and why he had returned.

***** 

I've been playing through the game again on my spare time. The reason I included the summary type speech about the events of the game is because for the longest time I didn't fully understand the entire story line. I found a website that lays the whole plot out in great detail, though, and decided to make use of my new found knowledge.


	6. Travelling

Sephiroth awoke suddenly, the tormented screams from his nightmare still echoing through his mind. His body was bathed in cold sweat, and panic filled him as for a moment; he had no idea where he was. Realization came to him then; he was in one of the rooms above Seventh Heaven, where Tifa and Cloud had generously, if somewhat untrustingly, provided him with a place to stay. He brushed his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes and fell back against the pillow. The shadowy tendrils of his nightmares rose up to engulf him; he firmly pushed them back into his subconcious and thought about something - _anything_ - else. Today he and Cloud were venturing somewhere to the north, to the City of the Ancients. The thought both excited him and filled him with dread. What if he were to remember his previous life? Would the knowledge drive him mad? Violently insane as it had before? He had no way of knowing, but he had to take the risk.

Slivers of early dawn sunlight peered through the spaces of the shutter and crept across the bare expanse of his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the weariness that never really left him; the result of many nights plagued with the nightmare. He could hear movement in the rooms around him and in the bar below which would be closed until night. He rolled out of the bed and padded to the bathroom, intent on a shower. Minutes later he was dressed, and when he finished plaiting his long thick mane of hair he tucked it neatly under his coat. Unsure of who he would encounter outside the room, he pulled up the hood to hide his face. He could not yet afford to be recognized. He walked down the hall and then down the stairs, passing a few customers who had decided to stay the night. He entered the bar through the back door, and immediately spotted Tifa and Cloud. Tifa stood behind the bar, Cloud leaning against it from the outside. Both of them were focused on the small television that was mounted to the wall.

They were watching the news, and as he drew closer he could hear the reporter, "- something erupted from the ocean floor near Junon. Considerable damage was done to the Junon harbor, and as you can see here the rift in the ocean floor has created a whirlpool of enormous proportions. All ships heading to and departing from Junon harbor have been delayed inevitably because of this phenomenon. Aquatic specialists, marine biologists and geologists from around the world are flocking to this anomaly to try and discover the cause -"

With the remote she had, Tifa abruptly muted the television. She and Cloud exchanged a grim look. Turning, Cloud caught sight of him, and spoke.

"Are you ready?" His tone was curt. Sephiroth nodded. Cloud's expression was both irate and troubled, and Sephiroth could understand why. He was about to leave on a quest to help the man who was his most hated enemy discover himself. He knew that Cloud's hatred towards him was justified, but it saddened him a little; he could not escape the legacy he had made for himself.

"Good. It's going to take us a day or two to get where we're going." He turned to Tifa, "Will you be okay here?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine. Besides, Barret is due back from his vacation anytime now. But Cloud," she said, her tone serious, "be careful. Please."

He smiled rakishly at her. "Always. See you later," And turning, he left the bar. Sephiroth tossed a hurried farewell over his shoulder and followed Cloud.

Parked outside the bar was a many wheeled vehicle. Cloud defined it as a buggy, and climbed behind the wheel. As they left Midgar, little was said between them.

Upon reaching level ground, with the impressive mass of the city behind him, Cloud's mood seemed to lighten. He answered Sephiroth's question amicably enough, describing his days travelling under the General's command. There was a wistfulness in his tone that Sephiroth wondered at, but he was wise enough to say nothing. It was a bright day, and Sephiroth soon found himself absorbed in the scenery. Every now and then Cloud would point a place of interest, and at the blatant curiousity of his passenger he would elaborate and tell all he knew. It was approaching night when Cloud reached the shorelines of the ocean. It was there they stopped. At Sephiroth's questioning glance, Cloud explained, "We'll make camp here tonight. Tomorrow morning, an old friend of mine will be picking us up in his plane and flying us to the northern continent. I talked to him last night after our discussion."

Cloud began setting up camp. Sephiroth, feeling awkward and unhelpful, gazed at the ocean and the reflection of the setting sun upon its surface. They were a small distance from the actual beach, but the sound of the waves reaching the shore broke the otherwise silent dusk.

"Sephiroth."

Abruptly leaving his reverie, the silver haired man turned to find Cloud regarding him with an unreadable expression. He caught the bundle cloud tossed at him and frowned in bewilderment.

"It's tinder and flint," Cloud explained, moving to the open trunk of the buggy and pulling yet more equipment from within. "Try and get a fire going."

Sephiroth complied, unraveling the bundle and seperating the small pieces of wood from the flint and steel. It took him several tries to get a fire going as he fumbled with it, unskilled, but soon enough a small flame burst into being. Cloud, carrying several larger pieces of wood he had brought from the confines of the buggy, came over and added them to the fire. Shortly after a hearty blaze was roaring, beating away the chill of the enroaching night.

"We'll be sleeping under the stars." Cloud said, returning to the buggy and pulling two bedrolls free of the trunk. Sephiroth accepted his and spread it out a safe distance from the fire.

"How is it," he asked, "that you have all this equipment ready in the buggy?"

"I like to travel; to get away from the city. Whenever I have free time, I come out here, to the wilderness," Cloud said, spreading his own bedroll flat. "I always take the buggy. It's convenient that way."

Cloud handed Sephiroth a piece of dried meat. "If you're still hungry, there's more food in the trunk."

Sephiroth shook his head. He was growing anxious; nervous about what the next day would bring. He began gnawing on the dried meat, however, as he hadn't had anything to eat since earlier that day. They ate in silence, and when Cloud had finished his he spoke up.

"I don't think we'll need to keep watch tonight," he said, climbing into his bedroll, " but if something happens, I'm a light sleeper. Rest well," He turned on his side, facing away from Sephiroth.

Sephiroth didn't immediately try to sleep. He tended to the fire for a while, staring contemplatively into the flames. As his eyes grew heavy he lay back and drew the blankets over him, his head pillowed on his rolled up coat. He gazed at the night sky, asking all the questions that lay in his soul, but the ebony expanse merely answered him with stars. They twinkled and winked at him, seperated from each other by the gaping black holes of space.

He sighed. Holes in the sky, holes in himself.

-----

He was roused by a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Cloud above him. "Time to rise," said the blonde man, moving to his own bedroll and efficiently rolling it up, "Cid should be here soon." 

Sephiroth took a moment to stretch his cramped muscles, being as he was unused to sleeping on the hard ground. He was winced as something in his back spasmed in protest to the stretch; Cloud watched him with a half smile.

"What?" Sephiroth asked, confused as to the cause of amusement.

"The Sephiroth I knew," Cloud said with a little shake of his head, "Wouldn't be sore after one night on the ground."

Not knowing how to reply, the silver haired man gave a little smile in reply and began rolling up his own bedroll with considerably less efficiency. They began loading everything back into the trunk of the buggy. Cloud withdrew a canvas backpack and handed it to Sephiroth before strapping his own onto his back. He looked up the buggy and turned to look expectantly at the sky.

Minutes later, a shape came into view. It quickly revealed itself to be an aircraft, and soon the roar of its engines was washing over them both. The plane, deep green in color, passed over them but circled back and descended. As it landed not far from where they stood, the rush of air blew past them. The engines cut then died, and the pilot hopped out of the cockpit and headed towards them.

"Cloud! How the hell have you been?"

The pilot was a rough looking blonde man with a raspy voice and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He paid no attention whatsoever to Sephiroth, but instead engulfed Cloud in a bear hug. As they pulled apart, he hounded Cloud with questions and obsceneties. Sephiroth watched, vaguely amused, until Cloud gestured his way.

"Cid, this is -"

The man named Cid had already looked. His jaw fell open, and the cigarette fell smoldering to the ground. "Shit ..."


	7. Released

It was free.

That was the only thought flowing through its mind. Free at last. Free from the rock, free from the confines of the damp darkness, free from it all. It revelled in the air that moved across its flesh as it soared through the night sky. It had been so very long since it had experienced anything like this. The memory was faint, and tainted with fury.

_Imprisoned._

_Defeated._

It howled its anger at the sky then, at the millennia it had endured in imprisonment, at the injustice of it all. It had been the call that had forced it out of its slumber, the sleep that healed. The call had to be obeyed; it was the call of flesh; the call of blood. It had begun to move, heading towards the surface, one agonizing inch at a time. Time had ceased to have meaning. There was only the call, the demand, and the will to answer.

It realized almost immediately that something was wrong. The call was no longer to be heard, no longer resonating in the pulse, in the thoughts. All there was was frightening silence. It did not like the implications of that silence; for there to be silence the Voice must be dead.

The knowledge that it was alone in this alien realm created an emotion similar to fear.

It was alone.

In all those long, innumerable years, buried far beneath the Above, it had been aware of the Voice. The Voice, in turn, made it aware of the Limbs, and the Heart. No matter what distance separated them they were still whole, and took solace in that, for certainly one day they would all reunite and become the Being, as they had been upon arriving on this planet. But now ...

Silence.

It keened its pain to the wind at the acute loneliness, the painful isolation it felt. It had lost parts of itself, and it knew with cold certainty that those parts were undeniably gone forever. It struggled to remember what the Voice had revealed upon reawakening it, and pieces of memory flashed through it.

**-Puppet-**

**-Meteor-**

**-CETRA-**

It snarled then, at the recollection of that hated word. Eons of rage welled up at the very thought, and it knew who to blame for the current situation it found itself in. With the memories came the visions; the avatar with the long shiny hair, and the puppets that followed him. A hole in the ground, an enormous crater that the Voice had been calling it to. The last remaining member of the Enemy race, dead at the hands of the Avatar. The Voice had been so triumphant as the last Enemy had fallen, impaled on a cold length of steel. But there had been a note of uncertainty behind that triumph; the unsettling suspicion that the Enemy had known her death was coming, that the Enemy had died for a reason unbeknownst to the Voice. And then the thought that perhaps the Enemy was not really dead.

It clung to that memory, as it flew through clouds that obscured the moon. It was alone, and it had never been alone before. There was one thing it was certain of.

The Enemy must die. A permanent death, not a guise under which it would travel to The Promised Land. It could do that much, at least, yearned to do it. With the Enemy gone once and for all, it could begin what the Voice had intended to do once all parts had been reunited: send out the call for the Others to come and to be together once again. It delved within the visions the Voice had sent and searched for where the Enemy lay.

**-Water-**

**-Light-**

It remembered this place. This was where the Dismemberment had happened. Where it had become an entity unto itself, yet still connected to the others. Where it had been taken away, and confined.

With the location implanted firmly in its head, it changed direction midair and continued on.


	8. Nemesis

Cloud had been hard pressed to convince the pilot known as Cid that the silver haired man standing before him was not exactly the Sephiroth they had once known as the most villanious man in history. In fact, it was all he could do to stop Cid from skewering Sephiroth on the barbed end of his spear. Somewhere inbetween his explosive oaths and jabbing of the spear he calmed down enough to actually listen to what Cloud was saying. Sephiroth remained motionless through it all, not daring to move for fear of being impaled. Finally, at Cloud's insistence, Cid lowered the spear.

"Out of all the people to defend him," Cid grumbled, looking sharply at Cloud, "I never expected it to be you."

Cloud laughed, a short harsh sound. "That makes two of us, Cid."

Sephiroth allowed himself a small sigh of relief. At the sound, the gruff pilot turned his attention back to Sephiroth. The look in his eyes was wary, distrustful, and a tinge violent. "What the hell are you doing back here, anyways? Wasn't nearly destroying the world and life as we know it once enough for you? Or are you lookin' to get your ass kicked again?"

Sephiroth opened his mouth to explain, but thought better of it and looked to Cloud instead. The blonde man sighed.

"Cid, " he said, "It's a long story."

Cid folded his arms over his chest stubbornly. "I've got time."

In a resigned voice, Cloud related to his friend everything about Sephiroth and his mysterious return. After he'd finished, Cid shook his head. "Are you sure about this, Cloud?"

"I don't know," replied the other. "But I want answers just as much as he does, and I think I know where to go to get them."

"Just where exactly are we going? You and all your goddamn mystery, making me fly out to the middle of nowhere to pick you up. Although it was wise of you to not mention your friend here," he added, a glint in his eye, "Cuz if I'd known who it was, I would have mowed him down with the plane."

"You're taking us to Bone Village," Cloud said grimly.

"Bone Village? What the hell you want to -" Cid stopped in mid sentence, and his countenance became solemn. "Oh."

Cloud was beginning to look impatient. Cid sighed and fished around in his shirt pocket for a paket of cigarettes. He lit one and inhaled deeply, and then indicated the plane behind him with his thumb. "C'mon, then. Might as well get going. You ..." he growled at Sephiroth, "You pull any funny stuff and I'll drop you onto whatever hard surface we happen be flying over. Understand?"

Sephiroth nodded. Cid glared at him a moment longer before turning and heading to his plane. Cloud, grinning slightly at the pilot's sour demeanor, indicated that they were to follow.

The plane was called the Lady Luck, and it had on one side a mural of a scantily clad woman. The cockpit was roomy, and Cloud moved up to occupy the copilot's seat near Cid. Sephiroth, figuring Cid would pilot better if he was nowhere around, took up a seat to the rear of the cabin. With the load roar of the engines and the vibration of the propellors they began moving, faster and faster until they had left the ground all together. Sephiroth stared out the small window at the ground that was falling away rapidly beneath them. As they flew, he could hear Cid and Cloud in deep discussion, presumably about him. From time to time one voice or the other would raise in anger, and it slightly bothered Sephiroth that he was the cause of dissension between two old friends. The steady thunder of the engines prevented him from clearly making out what they were saying, and after a while he stopped trying. Lulled by the rythmic noise around him, he soon drifted into sleep.

He awoke as the plane around him shook and bounced. Alarmed, he sat bolt upright, only to realize they had landed. Cloud was moving into the back, gathering up his bag of supplies. Cid stood and leaned against the cockpit door, cigarette hanging precariously from the corner of his mouth.

"When should I come back for you?" He asked as Cloud opened the hatch.

"Two days," Cloud replied. "We'll be back by then. We'll be waiting for you right here."

"Allright. Good luck. And," he added with a dark glance at Sephiroth, "Be careful."

Cloud nodded and gestured Sephiroth to the hatch. It was a short drop to the ground, and he landed lightly, shouldering his pack. Cloud followed, landing with ease and turning to wave at Cid one last time before the pilot closed the hatch again. Sephiroth looked at his surroundings. They stood before a forest, and what appeared to be the bones of some long dead and rather large creature protruded menacingly from the forest canopy.

"What's that?" He asked Cloud.

"Bone Village," the other replied, and began walking towards it.

He discovered a short while that the bones were in fact a part of a village. It was, Cloud explained as they walked by the buildings made of canvas draped over bone, mainly an archaelogy site. There were several people digging in various parts of the area, and they acknowledged the two men either with nods or words of greeting. Sephiroth still wore his hood pulled low over his face. They came to a ladder that led up to a higher portion of the forest, and they climbed it one after the other. They then entered the heart of the forest and left the village behind them.

The atmosphere immediately changed upon walking several steps; a thin mist whirled gracefully between the trees, and it seemed the leaves themselves gave off a sort of soft luminousity. Sephiroth would have stopped to explore had Cloud not been resolutely walking ahead, and so he hurried after his guide. They wound their way through the forest only a short ways before it abruptly ended, and Sephiroth caught his breath at the sight he was presented with.

Before them yawned a large canyon, colored greyish blue. And in the center of the canyon rose a spectacular mass of winding structures; he had no idea what it was, but it was breathtaking all the same.

Cloud had been closely watching his reaction. "Do you remember this place?"

Sephiroth shook his head, his eyes still on the sight before him. "Should I?"

"Yes," Cloud said, and Sephiroth was surprised at the undisguised fury in his voice, "You should."

The blonde man turned and began picking his way down a winding trail that led to the canyon floor. Curious and apprehensive at the knowledge that they were nearing their destination, Sephiroth followed suit. As the trail they walked gradually straightened, they drew closer and closer to the structure that rose so gracefully before him. It gleamed white in the sun, and he began making out details as they drew nearer. It was a city, he realized, and remembered what Cloud had told him two nights ago.

The City of the Ancients.

They came to walkways made of what appeared to be shell. The path diverged three ways; Cloud took the path in the middle and continued on without stopping. They drew closer to the heart of the city, which rose now all around them. In the neighbouring cliffs that rose around the city Spehiroth could clearly see that habitats had been carved out of the stone, and were connected to the city by graceful, arching walkways. Cloud did not glance at the scenery; he walked with single minded purpose, and Sephiroth could not help but wonder just what that purpose was ...

A large shell rose up before him, surrounded by a pool of crystalline water, with winding stairs leading into the interior. He marvelled at the intricacy of the structures of the Ancients. Cloud took the steps into the shell and then began walking down on a pathway made of crystal. The pathway led to a cavern beneath the shell house, a large cavern. The cavern floor was covered in water that pulsed with a strange glow, and towers of iridescent white spiralled up towards them. The travelled into the midst of the towers, until they stood before a small alcove with pillared steps leading to it. Cloud jumped with agility from pillar to pillar until he stood in the alcove, and Sephiroth followed his suit awkwardly. Cloud said nothing as he stood there, but his eyes were faraway and Sephiroth was loathe to interrupt.

"It happened here," Cloud said finally, an anguished heaviness in his voice.

"What happened here?"

"Aeris ... Aeris died. She was kneeling there," Cloud pointed to the spot directly before him, "deep in prayer. And from above you came down, and impaled her on your blade. You murdered her here, in the City of the Ancients."

There was such thick sorrow in his words that Sephiroth something tighten in his chest, "I'm sorry ..."

"Are you?" Cloud asked sharply, "How can you be sorry for something you don't remember?"

"I am, and I don't know how," the other whispered, "but I am sorry."

Cloud made a choked sound, and turned and began leaping back down the pillared steps. He said nothing further as they climbed the spiralling pathway, and did not stop until they left the shell house. He waded a few feet into the water, gazing into the depths. "This is where I laid her to rest," he whispered, half to himself. "I carried her out into the middle, and I watched her drift down. She's down there, somewhere ..."

Sephiroth waded into the water a few steps. "I -" He began, but abruptly stopped speaking as a million voices erupted into chaos in his head. Agony tore through him, and he fell to his knees in the water and clawed at his head to try and relieve the pain. Cloud was shouting, but his words were unclear. The voices were screaming, crying, laughing, singing ... and above them all rose the cadence that haunted him every night:

**-SEPHIROTH-**

**-----**

****

****

It had arrived.

It flew unerringly through the winding peaks and spirals of the structures of the Enemy, headed to the heart of the City. It travelled with single minded purpose, and was thus surprised to see two creatures in the pool it had come in search of. The images the Voice had sent included these two ...

The Avatar, and a puppet.

It was pleased to see the Avatar had survived. It reached out and caressed his mind, as the Voice had so often done, to reassure, to control. The effect it had was startling. The Avatar dropped to his knees and thrashed about. It called harder, trying to manipulate the pieces of itself that lay within the silver haired form. It stopped abruptly. It could sense none of itself within the Avatar. Confused now, and a little alarmed at how violently the Avatar was reacting, it tried to soothe him, sending out reassuring calls.

**-Mother-** it said **-I am Mother-**

The Avatar made no gestures of of recollection and instead screamed in agony.

The puppet had noticed it now, hovering above them. There was horrified recognition on his face, and he rushed forwards. It paid the puppet no mind, instead trying to bring the Avatar under control. It was therefore unprepared for the searing pain that ripped through its form, and it shrieked in agonized surprise. The puppet had burned it with something that came from the weapon it held. It was struck again, and the agony caused it to falter in flight.

**-MY SON-** It said, frantic now **-SAVE ME-**

The Avatar stumbled to his feet, and gazed upon it for one second. Tears of pain streaked his face, and the look in his eyes held no recognition, nothing but horror.

The Avatar was no longer a part of it.

Furious, it sent its rage to the Avatar, and he fell backwards into the pool. It was hit again by the puppet, and it turned its attention to the problem at hand. It could sense pieces of itself in the puppet, and exerted its will to manipulate them ...

The puppet grit its teeth and sent another wave of fire streaming into it. There was not enough of the taint inside him to control; it was too weak without the Voice to guide it. It flew higher, escaping the waves of burning hurt. It could not defeat this one, not now. It soared free of the city, and propelled its hurting form north, to where it could rest.

Inside its mind, there was only seething hatred.

-----

Cloud let his sword fall from his nerveless fingers. _Not again, not here,_ he prayed silently, fervently. But there was no mistaking what he had just seen. A piece of Jenova, grotesque and twisted and utterly inhuman. He had felt it trying to exert its will over the cells in his body, and he had fought back. It had fled, but it was real. It existed.

_Jenova._

Cloud realized then that the pain filled cries of Sephiroth had vanished. He turned to the pool to find it empty, with no trace of the other. Cloud ran into the water, until it passed his waist. He peered into the depths, trying to see if the man who had been his enemy was somewhere within.

But there was nothing.

-----

Sephiroth vaguely realized through the painful haze clouding his mind that what was trying to communicate with him was Jenova. He had seen it and the way Cloud reacted to it, and knew instinctively what it was. He could not understand what it was saying to him; all he heard where screams and cries, and occasionally a word louder than the others.

**-Mother-**

_NO!_ He shouted soundlessly back at it. The chaos in his head increased, angry now, and the agony of its thoughts threw him backwards.

As the water closed over his head he thrashed and twisted to escape the presence in his mind. Something was not right; he could not escape the pull of the water, it was pulling him downwards. It felt heavy, and it pulsed around him. It was similar to his dream, and the thought that perhaps he was re-entering the void that was his punishment made him struggle all the harder. His lungs burned, and finally he could not fight it anymore. He sucked in a mouthful of water and made one last attempt to kick free, to swim towards the rippling surface above ...

Something began to glow, searing his eyes with a blinding white light. Unthinking, he moved towards it, sluggishly, aware that he had only seconds to survive. He saw what was giving off the light and wrapped his arms around it, bringing it closer to him. Immediately the water around him grew thinner, released its hold on him, and he drifted to the surface.

-----

Cloud shouted in surprise as the entire pool began to radiate a brilliant white glow. Hastily he stumbled backwards, out of the water, shielding his eyes. The glow died as abruptly as it had started, and out of the water rose Sephiroth.

And cradled in his arms was a form that was all too familiar, pale and lifeless ...

In his arms he carried Aeris.


	9. Denied

Cloud had lost all traces of coherent thought. He was moving without realizing it, towards Sephiroth who stumbled weakly, coughing and gasping, to the shore. He took the body from Sephiroth and ever so gently carried it the last few feet to dry land. As he fell to his knees, he cradled the body - _Aeris_ - close to his chest and let his eyes travel her form in wonder.

_Aeris ..._

He could hear Sephiroth behind him, collapsing onto the ground and heaving, his lungs rejecting the water they had absorbed. He had no regard for anything but the miracle he held; the treasure his heart thought never to see again. "Aeris," he whispered, waiting for the eyelids to flicker; waiting for those expressive emerald orbs to see him, to know him. They didn't, and he shook her gently. "Aeris ..." Still nothing. He was confused, she was here; she was alive ...

He realized then, that the skin beneath his tender touch felt strange. It was cold, and solid, and upon closer inspection it gleamed faintly. He traced a finger down the side of her cheek, trying to ignore the icy certainty in the pit of his stomach. The more he stared, the more certain he was. He touched a hand to her hair, trailing on the ground. It too was hard, and the individual strands had been fused together to form one long mass. Now he could make out the faint glitters in her skin, around her eyes. It felt as if she were hardening further in his very arms, becoming heavier and more rigid. 

"No," Cloud whispered, unbelievingly and with despair.

For some unexplainable reason, her body was crystallizing. 

He laid her down then, horrified. Even as he watched, her skin became more and more iridescent, like the surface of a stone, or gem. Her pale skin became smooth like marble with threads of some undefineable silver substance. The effect travelled throughout her body, even turning the clothes she wore, the ones she had been wearing when Cloud had laid her to rest within the pool, hard as rock. Streaks of blue, moving pieces of electricity began to play over her arms, her face. He took a step backwards, shaking his head. Why wasn't she alive? Why wasn't she laughing in his arms, as she was meant to be? What was happening to her?

"Cloud ..." Sephiroth said hoarsely, standing now, and staring at Aeris in bewilderment. 

Cloud tore his eyes from the scene before him and whirled on the silver haired man. "You!" He spat. "How did you find her? Why did you take her?"

"I - I didn't know what it was ... the water wouldn't let me go, Cloud. It was dragging me down, but then there was a light and I touched something. And the moment I grabbed it - her - the water released me."

Anguish, rage, and confusion were warring with each other on Cloud's face. He gave a sound that was half laugh and half sob, and turned again to stare at what had once been a woman. "Aeris," He said in a choked voice, and knelt before her. 

Aeris. Sephiroth gazed at the features, hardened and shimmering, and felt his own pain wash through him. This was the woman Cloud loved; it was obvious in every move the other man made, in the way he spoke her name.

And this was the woman he himself had slain. 

He also knelt by the body, across from Cloud. The hardening was slower now, almost complete, and she lay before them a statue, a crystallized parody of what had once been a living, breathing, human. Cloud had lowered his head, whether to hide his sorrow or embrace it Sephiroth did not know. His gaze was drawn to the play of silver and blue that streaked across the marble like face and the slender arms. Unthinking, compelled by something unnamed, he slowly reached out and touched her cheek. The reaction was instantaneous. The jagged bolts of blue and silver ceased their wanderings and climbed up his arm, eliciting a harsh cry at the biting pain. He attempted to fall back but found himself firmly held. A glow had began where his hand had touched her once flesh, the same blinding white light that had surrounded him in the pool. It grew until it surrounded him, and the pain, acute like the pain of Jenova in his mind, grew with it. He was aware of Cloud yelling, leaping for him, but everything moved in slow, liquid movements. The blue and silver lines had crawled over his shoulder and were now at his neck. He made one more desperate attempt to wrench free of whatever held him before he was swallowed by the light.

Silence fell, so profound it hurt his ears. 

He was surrounded by white, but the pain was gone, as were the bolts of electricity that had climbed his body. He could not move, was not aware of having a body, was only aware of the corporeal existence of this place and this time. It was, he realized with some trepidation, almost like his dream.

**-SEPHIROTH-**

He knew that sound, knew that voice. It's haunting tone made him weak with guilt and regret. This was hell, and this was eternity, and he had returned -

Something appeared in front of him. 

It was the girl, the one he had pulled from the depths of the pool. Here she was, kneeling with her head down in prayer.

Here was Sephiroth, the girl impaled on his blade. 

Here was Cloud, face torn in despair.

Here was Jenova, taunting and twisted. 

Image after image assailed him, rapid and fierce. And with them came the memory of feeling; of the emotion he had felt as he fell down, down, his sword out before him, satisfied and intent at skewering the one before him. The jubilation and comfort Jenova's words had given him. The utter disdain for the Planet, and all those who inhabited it. The frenzied fear as Cloud had struck him again and again and again in the crater. The panicked realization that he could die, and would, die.

He remembered it all. 

**-SEPHIROTH-**

The images stopped, but he was still reeling from their impact. The voice drew his attention before him, and there stood the girl. Aeris. 

**-SEPHIROTH-**

It was her voice, her words that haunted him night after night. She was his punishment, her tormented cry assailing his sanity. 

**-LISTEN-**

And he did. 


	10. Decisions

**-Understand-** the one called Aeris communicated to him **-that because you are alive does not mean the Planet has forgotten what you have done-**

He had already figured that much out.

**-You have been reborn because you are needed-**

_Needed? For what? And why?_

**-To rid this Planet of Jenova, once and for all-**

_How am I to do that? I'm not the General of legend anymore; I'm just a human._

**-Yes. You were held in the lifestream upon your death, and every trace of Jenova has been stripped from you. You were reborn human, more human than most others. The Planet made sure of it-**

_I don't understand._

**-You are not required to. What matters is that you have been reborn in such a manner that you are now the anathema of Jenova-**

_What?_

**-Her taint was taken from you, and you were cleansed. The aftermath of this cleansing has made you such that you are a poison to her. You are the one thing immune to her on all the earth. You are needed for that reason-**

Realization dawned on him. _The Planet knew that there would be another Jenova?_

Silence. And then: **-Yes. Not another Jenova, but more pieces of her. You have no capacity for understanding what type of creature she truly is. Upon her arrival many centuries ago, she caused a grievous hurt to the Planet. She is a monstrosity in every meaning of the word. The Cetra could not destroy her all at once; by separating her body and confining the pieces they were able to weaken it. Even the Jenova that manipulated you was not the entire thing. The most vital piece of Jenova has yet to gain freedom, but the time is almost near-**

_The most vital piece?_

**-The Voice of Jenova was what used you and controlled you, and made you collect some of the Limbs, and the Heart. What you saw today was a Limb. The most vital piece of Jenova is the Mind. It was confined with special care, so that it could not communicate with any of the other pieces. But it is stirring, and its prison has weakened, and soon it will be free. And with the Mind free ... there will be only one thing it cannot manipulate. And that thing is you-**

_I cannot do this ..._ He felt utterly helpless, utterly lost.

**-You must, and you will. You will not be alone. There is one more thing the Planet and the Cetra can do-**

_What?_

**-I will show you-**

And she did.

----- 

Something hit him across the face. Hard. His eyes flew open to focus, startled, on the alarmed countenance of Cloud.

"What the hell just happened?" Cloud demanded, gripping him by the front of his coat and hauling him upright. Sephiroth shook his head, bewildered. The last thing he remembered was reaching out and touching the body of the girl, and the white light swallowing him. He looked at the body in question, to find that it was almost completely translucent with traces of shimmer and veins of silver weaving throughout it. It was now much like any precious stone. 

"Answer me!" Cloud snarled, shaking him. "What happened just now?"

"I ... there were voices," Sephiroth faltered, struggling to recall what had in fact happened; it seemed so faint, now. But one thing stood out in vivid clarity. "I remember who I am ..." 

Cloud dropped him and stood. He was at once wary, and angered. "Congratulations," he said sardonically, "And welcome back. What I want to know is what happened when you touched her."

"I told you - I heard voices. The ones from my nightmare." He frowned, struggling to retain the details that faded more and more by the second. He pointed at the crystallized form of Aeris. "She was there - she's the one that haunts me at night. She told me ..." 

"Told you what?" Cloud shouted in exasperation. "What did Aeris tell you?"

Sephiroth was silent, recalling. Finally he said, "She told me why I'm back." 

"And why are you?"

"Because the only one truly immune to Jenova," Sephiroth said quietly, "is someone who has been under her taint, and cleansed." 

Cloud stared at him in disbelief. "You're telling me," he said slowly, "That you're alive because you're needed to defeat Jenova?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "I'm back - was sent back - by the Planet, by the Cetra. Not because I am forgiven," he added bitterly; for that fact was all to clear, "But because I have died, and been reborn, I have been thoroughly cleansed of anything Jenova. I am human, now. More human than most. More human," he said, looking up, "than you." 

"And this makes you immune to Jenova?"

Sephiroth nodded. "Completely immune. That's what she - Aeris - told me. But it's more than that. I am an anethema to Jenova." 

"What?"

Sephiroth sighed, and tried to sort what he had been told in images and feelings into words. "I cannot be infected by her again, and I am poison to her." 

"Great." Cloud muttered. "The Planet makes the man who tried to kill it a savior."

"I am no savior," Sephiroth said, standing, "And I did not want this. But it seems I have no choice. For if I refuse ..." 

Cloud looked at him sharply. "If you refuse, what happens? What happens then?"

"I return to my private hell for all eternity." He replied grimly. "And I will not go back there. Not willingly." 

"And Jenova? How has she returned?"

Sephiroth explained what he had been told. Cloud sighed tiredly, his face drawn. "The Planet does not need this. Not again." 

He turned to look at the body lying before them. "And Aeris? Why has she not returned as well?"

"I don't know." Sephiroth lied. He did know, she had revealed it to him. But he could not tell Cloud, could not explain to him the complexities of why death was to be her eternity. 

"I wish," Cloud said softly and to himself, "that I could have seen her, one last time."

"We must take her body. We cannot leave it here. "The other man did not answer. He took a deep breath. "Cloud ... she told me - Aeris told me what has happened to her body. She was meant to die, Cloud, and she was meant to be laid to rest in that pool." Cloud looked at him then, waiting. "It was her sacrifice, not only to summon Holy against the Meteor, but for when something like this were to happen. The Planet knew, and the Cetra knew, that Jenova would arise again. And so her body remained in that sacred pool, until now. When I touched the water, it triggered an effect ... Cloud, her body has become Materia. Her body is now the core of Holy." 

Both of their eyes went to where she lay. As incredulous as it sounded, as they gazed upon her and the transformation that had been wrought, they knew it to be the the truth.

"What," Cloud asked then, "are we to do with her?" 

"That I don't know. She made it very clear that when the Mind of Jenova frees itself, when it is confronted, her body - Holy - must be there."

Cloud said nothing. Sephiroth fell into silence, his thoughts roiling. All of this was too much, too soon. On top of it all, he had remembered himself, remembered who he was. He remembered the days in SOLDIER, remembered murdering Aeris, remembered it all. He remembered merging his own form with Jenova's, remembered the final cataclysmic battle in the bowels of the Crater between Cloud and himself. He looked at Cloud and felt prejudices from long ago rise to the fore, and he angrily wrestled them down. Whatever he had done, whoever he had been, he had been cleansed, and reborn. 

The One Winged Angel was forever gone. In his place was a man, just a man.

And he was afraid. 


	11. Regrets

The body of Aeris, the core of Holy, was taken to Cosmo Canyon. It light of the most recent events Cloud had decided to call all members of Avalanche together once again. Cid returned with the airship Highwind for Cloud, Sephiroth, and Holy, and after that they made stops in a myriad of locations to pick up the individual members. Sephiroth was greeted with varying degrees of animosity, disbelief, and outright fear, all of which he had expected. The two members that seemed indifferent to his appearance were Nanaki, formerly Red XIII, and Vincent Valentine. Sephiroth could not help his curiosity concerning Vincent; Cloud had told him the entire story concerning his real mother Lucrezia, and the former Turk. He yearned to know more about his human mother, to know why she had consented to the experiments that she had, to know if she had cared for him. A part of him, the remnants of the arrogant warrior he had been, was disdainful of this curiosity. He wrestled daily with new memories, new prejudices against every one of the members of Avalanche, but he resolutely forced them away. It no longer mattered who he had been; what was vital now was who he could be. 

But they couldn't, or they refused to. And so he spent the days following isolated and shunned. Each and every one of them was preparing for the worst, for what they assumed would be a cataclysmic showdown between themselves and Jenova. He knew different, knew that the real battle would not be anything like that. Aeris had shown him that, and shown him so much more. The knowledge he carried, the knowledge Aeris had made him sworn to secrecy, isolated him even farther. The turn of fate that had led him here had caused him to grow bitter, and angry. Angry at himself for all his previous grievances, angry at fortune for ever leading Jenova to this Planet. As Avalanche spent their days aboard the Highwind in nervous anticipation, the silver haired man walked the decks in isolated contemplation. He was surprised to find himself growing lonely; more specifically, longing for the easy companionship he watched the others share from afar. This new realization raised both scorn and satisfaction; scorn because loneliness was a sign of the weak, satisfaction because it was a sign of the humanity he had at one point lost. 

There was one place he would go, when at his most frustrated or confused. The companions had laid Aeris's body within a small chamber in the heart of the Highwind, laid atop a small platform. When no one was around, Sephiroth would go there, to think and to try and clear his mind. He also hoped that Aeris would speak with him again and clarify everything that was so murky and unclear. Her body had become utterly transparent with traces of cloudy silver that pulsed. When he stared upon her body, guilt would rise to the fore; guilt and sorrow, because even though he knew he had been fated to slay her that day years ago, he realized how hard her life had been. She had known very early on what her purpose in life would be; to die at his hands, a sacrifice that would summon Holy. But it hadn't ended there; she had been forced to exist in limbo very similar to his own hell, because she was still needed; because she had become Holy. He had felt her anguish, and her torment when she had spoken to him. She was still alive, in a sense, but was sealed away, unable to interact but able to watch those she loved and knew continue their lives while she had forfeited her own. Her bitterness had been rival to his own, and while she couldn't help but hate him for what he had done, she sympathized with him because their fates were so similar. And so he returned to this spot everyday, hoping she would communicate with him, for out of everyone he was aware of, she understood him the most. But she remained silent, and so the days passed.

Vincent did not overly avoid him. He was neither friendly nor cold, but quite often Sephiroth would snap out of his deep contemplation to see crimson eyes regarding him thoughtfully. He never approached the former General, and Sephiroth, uncertain of Vincent's opinion regarding him, remained uncomfortably aloof. Cloud, having become more terse and agitated since finding Aeris, spoke only to the silver haired man when needed. Tifa went out of her way to try and make conversation, but it always forced, and ended soon after. Nanaki was always polite, but always guarded. The others were often openly hostile. 

On the eighth day after their leaving the Ancient City, Sephiroth was again in deep thought, perched in a small alcove beside the platform Aeris materia body lay on. He'd been staring, unseeing, at the pulsing silver threads that spread throughout the materia. He was growing restless, and unnerved. There had been no sign or news of Jenova anywhere, and waiting was the worst part. He let his eyes travel upwards over the materia, to the expressionless face that was now eerily transparent. What had she been like, he wondered, alive? That Cloud loved her was obvious, and it was equally obvious how she had touched the hearts of the others as well. Again, the guilt welled within him that he had taken from them someone so loved, so dear, and he bowed his head against the pain of it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, hoping that wherever her soul lay, she was listening. "I would give you back your life, if I could. I'm sorry.""Can she hear you?" Asked a voice from the doorway. "Is that why you sit in here day after day?"Startled, Sephiroth raised his head. Vincent stood silhouetted in the doorway. He crossed the threshold and gently slid the door shut behind him. He gazed at the materia form before him for a moment, before turning his disconcerting eyes to Sephiroth. 

"Well?" He asked expectantly.

"I ..." Sephiroth shook his head, unnerved. "I don't know if she can hear me." 

"Cloud tells me that she spoke with you once before."

"Yes. She did." 

"I see." Vincent's tone, polite and rather distant, betrayed nothing. He sat down across from the former General, on the other side of the materia. "Is that why you come here, then?"

For an instant, Sephiroth was confused, wondering at the other's meaning. "Yes ...I keep hoping she'll talk to me again. That she'll tell me more that I need to know." 

Vincent was silent, gazing at what had once been a friend. "Do you mean what you said? Are you sorry for killing her?"

Sephiroth raised his gaze, and what Vincent saw within their emerald depths was pain, and guilt. "Yes. I do." 

"I think she knows," replied the former Turk. "She was always able to do that; guess what you were feeling. And though I never got the chance to really know her, I miss her very much."

"Then," Sephiroth answered softly, "I am sorry for you, too." 

Vincent, startled, stared at him. After a minute, he slowly nodded his head. "I think you mean that. And that makes all the difference."

He rose and stood to leave, and Sephiroth stood as well. "Vincent," He said abruptly, "Tell me about her. Tell me about my mother." 

Vincent froze, still facing the door. He slowly turned around to face the other, expressionless.

"Please," Sephiroth whispered. 

"What would you know?"

"Everything. Anything. I know that you ..." He hesitated, "I know that you loved her. Cloud told me. And I know that you asked her, begged her not to go through with the experiment that created me. You knew her better than anyone ... so please ... tell me." 

Vincent remained motionless for a moment longer before turning and returning to where he had previously sat. And in a quiet voice, full of memory and happiness long forgotten, he related to Sephiroth all he knew. When he finished, he stood and left without a word, and left Sephiroth to his musings. Sephiroth himself was lost in thought; the mother he had never known, the mother that he had never seen. Eventually he left the chamber, and went to his bunk. He knew it was late evening, and so he crawled into his bed in the dark. He lay awake for long moments, pondering what could have been, and what was. Regret, he was beginning to realize, was something his former self hadn't allowed.

Gradually his eyes closed, and sleep claimed him. 

-----

**-Sephiroth-**

He knew he was dreaming, and was relieved to discover that, for once, it wasn't the nightmare. He was standing on the shores of an ocean; the wind that flowed past him brought the smell of the sea, and the sound of the waves. The sand was soft and warm beneath his bare feet, and the dying sun warded off the oncoming chill of the night. He watched, fascinated, as the sun's reflection rippled on the waves coming into the shore.

**-Sephiroth-**

He turned then, to find Aeris standing behind him. She was clad in pink, with large worn boots, a long metal staff, and her hair in falling over one shoulder. With a start he realized this was how she had appeared the last time he had saw her alive; this was how she had been moments before he had murdered her. As if realizing his thoughts, she smiled, and it was wistful.

**-You should know-** she said **-that what happened was meant to happen. I cannot hate you forever-**

_Why not? I deserve it._ He replied bitterly.

**-It was predetermined. Neither of us had much say-**

There it was again, the underlying bitterness she carried, so sharp it was like a knife. He winced. _I'm sorry ..._

A sad, weary smile. **-I know. I do not blame you. Not anymore-**

She stepped up beside him, watching the sunset fade into twilight. He let his gaze follow hers, taking comfort in this peace, this illusionary safety that would all too soon fade. She said then **-You wanted to speak to me again?-**

He started, surprised she knew that. But then again, he thought ruefully, it had been rather blatant. _Yes._

**-About what?-**

_Everything. I am so lost......I do not know what it is I am supposed to do. I am the bane of Jenova, I know, but how do I go about all of this? Surely it would be folly to search her out, and even if I encountered her what would I do? I have no power, now; I am merely human ..._

The look she gave him was kind and sympathetic. **-I know only what I told you. The Planet, the Cetra ... they often speak in circles ...-**

He sighed, discouraged. _So I am to continue on, like a blind man approaching a silent monster?_

**-Sephiroth-** she said then, her voice stern **-you were chosen, and that fact cannot be altered. As vague as it sounds ... all will be revealed in time. It always is ...-**

He heard again her pain, her loss. _I'm sorry_ he said softly, _for what you have lost._

She didn't reply. From the sand before them rose a hazy image of someone: Cloud. She gestured to the image of the blonde man, standing on the deck of the Highwind, looking with an unreadable expression before him.

**-I never thought I would live long enough to make friends. I knew at an early age what was needed, what was expected of me. I never expected-** she said, and her sorrow made her voice heavy **-to fall in love. But I did. And despite how much I wanted it, how much I yearned to accept it, I couldn't. Because of my destiny. Because of my heritage-**

She turned to him, and her eyes were glistening with tears. **-I tell you this-** she continued **-because you are much like I was, now. You have no choice, no future beyond what has been chosen for you. I have loved, and I have lost, and as much as I shouldn't, I regret. That is what makes me human. I understand, Sephiroth, what you are feeling; the helplessness, the futility, the anger at the unfairness of it all. I understand, and I am sorry for you, because it will not be easy-** She turned again to stare at the image of Cloud, and her tears began to fall. **-It never is ...-**

Sephiroth, aching for her, said _He still loves you, Aeris._

**-And I him-**

And then, because he didn't know what else to say, _I'm so sorry ..._

**-I know-** She turned then, and surprising him, took his hand in her own. **-Just as I am sorry for you-**

They turned as one to stare at the ocean before them, the waves reflecting the starry canopy above. And when he awoke that morning, he could still feel her fingers wrapped around his. 


	12. Evolution

Tremors rocked the land. 

The residents of the western continent were frightened, and confused. They did not get earthquakes, not here. Such phenomenon happened far from here, on the mainland. So when the earth began to tremble with such fury that some buildings in the village of Wutai began collapsing, they were suitably alarmed. Families fled for cover from falling debris, and buildings were evacuated. Panic spread throughout the island. What was happening?

The tremors were the strongest in the mountainous region of the continent, where the towering cliffs loomed over the surrounding ocean. 

The rocky peaks crumbled under the force of the quake, and collapsed into themselves. The ground heaved and shifted, creating chasms and ridges. The bridges that connected the mountains with the rest of the island were torn apart by the rising and falling of the earth.

Chaos reigned. 

A quaking greater than anything else began in the center of the mountains. The vibration of following rock was deafening. One mountain, twisted and hulking, began to shudder violently. With an explosion of rocky debris the peak of the mountain disintegrated, and rising from the wreckage rose a grotesque and monstrous form. Wings formed of slimy grey membrane and trailing tentacles spanned the air as they rose and fell in lazy momentum. The body was a twisted mass of flesh and bone and other identifiable matter. Set deep in a severely deformed head, several eyes gazed skyward, glowing with an unholy light.

The Mind was free. 

Unlike its counterparts, the Mind was very, very intelligent. It was an entity unto itself; it could exist perfectly without the other parts of Jenova. And although the Voice had been able to do the same, it was nowhere near as capable, as deadly, as the Mind. For long centuries it had sensed the weakening of the prison the hated Cetra had sealed it in; the enchanted rock walls that had risen as a mountain around it had slowly, but steadily, lost the power the Cetra had infused them with. And so it had waited, patiently, confidently, knowing that it would break free eventually, and when it did it would wreak havoc on this Planet.

It rose into the air with a grace that belied its appearance. It extended its senses, free of their former dampening constraints. There was no trace of the Voice, or the Heart. But there was a Limb, and it sent out the call that would not be ignored. It dipped then, and glided along the ocean surface, revelling in the sensations that had so long been denied. It pulled its wings close to its body and banked a sharp turn, and then followed the curve of the shore. It felt the Limb acknowledge the call, and it was satisfied. In a short time, they would be reunited, and they would be a force unstoppable. 

Wutai was now in its view, and it flew closer. It could sense the heartbeats of the scurrying humans, could feel their fear as they gazed upon it in all its might. Coldly, cruelly, it concentrated on doing what it had originally arrived on this Planet centuries ago to do.

Screams erupted. Humans closest to the Mind thrashed in pain as their skin was rent open, and their bones broke and reformed themselves. Teeth elongated, wings burst forth from flesh; scales and fur grew where there had been none. The ground was soon stained with blood and gore. 

The Mind focused on the humans fleeing the village, fleeing the horror before them. They too began to change, twisting, growing, dying. One by one, they succumbed as the Mind manipulated their cells, their genes. And when the last human had ceased to exist; when humanity had been erased from the island, the Mind pulled away, and began winging its way eastward.

Towards the Limb. 

Towards civilization.


	13. Overwhelmed

Sephiroth, upon waking, knew instinctively that something was wrong. There was a tangible tension in the air, thick enough to choke on, and as he went about preparing for the day he fought the apprehension rising within him. Once dressed, his long hair coiled tightly, he left his cabin and prepared to make his way to the bridge. The moment he opened the door his eyes were assailed by the searing light of the morning sun; he squinted and raised a hand to shadow them before making his way down the hall and to the stairs. The airship was, he noticed with some concern, noticeably devoid of people; normally he would have encountered one of the crewmen or the companions. The reason for this was revealed as soon as he set foot on the bridge, the door sliding shut behind him with an audible screeching noise. He froze as his eyes took in the scene before him: there was the young ninja, slumped on her knees, sobbing. There was Tifa, crouched protectively by Yuffie's side, her own tears falling unheeded down her cheeks. There was Cloud, face pale and jaw set as he gazed at the weeping girl. Sound was what caught his attention next; a voice from the radio transmitters giving a newscast. And as Sephiroth listened in growing horror of the massacre at Wutai, of a creature that made humans inhuman, he understood. Though those giving the news reports had no idea what monstrosity was capable of committing such an act, every person in this room was completely aware. 

Jenova.

Sephiroth felt sorrow, so familiar to him now, flood his mind. His attention went again to Yuffie; a broken, shattered form lamenting the loss of everything she had known and loved. And though his sympathy, his apathy would mean nothing to her, he longed to give it to her all the same. From across the room his eyes raised to meet the cold, anguished gaze of Cloud; as if reading the other's thoughts, Cloud shook his head slightly. Sephiroth understood the silent message: Yuffie would not accept his condolence, and it was better if he said nothing at all. Wanting to escape the horrific accounts given by the man on the radio Sephiroth stepped through the screeching door and headed to his place of clarity and calm. He went numbly, unfeeling, knowing that the time he so dreaded was nigh. When he was within the confines of the small room that housed Holy, he sank down in his usual spot and rested his head in his hands. He remained that way for long hours, deep in complex thought. 

"I don't think I can do this," he whispered finally to Aeris, knowing now she could hear him and expecting no reply in return. "I can't face Jenova, and survive ..."

Silence answered him. He sighed and raised his head, propping his chin in his hand. Almost immediately he recognized the difference in the crystallized body before him. His discerning gaze was able to see the movement below the gleaming, iridescent surface; to see the signs of life. He caught his breath in awe, realizing what she had told him would indeed come to pass. There was no way for him to see what lay within the materia completely, but he knew what it was with aching certainty. The knowledge both elated him and saddened him; it was as she had said. 

They must follow the path they were given.

There was no use in raging against his own utter lack of control against fate, although the righteous indignation of who he had been before was battling to emerge from where he had buried it. How easy would it be, he wondered suddenly, irrationally, to become who I was? He's there within me, always furious, always spiteful. Would this be any easier if I embraced that again? 

He did not receive the answer he had expected. The entire airship juddered violently, sending him sprawling to the floor. Screams, distant and terrifying, clamoured all around. The ship jolted again, and this time Sephiroth braced himself against the wall but watched helplessly as the materia - Holy - was knocked to the ground with a clear ringing sound.

An unearthly howl rose around him; the shrill, harsh cadence made him clap his hands over his ears in pain. He closed his eyes and delved deep within himself for the iron will and strength he knew was there. The howling began again, and he opened his eyes to see Holy glowing, pulsing, and the light grew steadily brighter. He took a step towards it and was thrown backwards as the world around him tilted violently. 

A roaring sound. It felt as though his stomach was rising into his throat. As he grasped desperately at the walls surrounding him, he realized they were falling.

----- 

It had been three hours since they had received the news of Wutai's demise. Yuffie, under the care of Tifa, had been taken to her room. Yuffie's eyes, so devoid of any feeling, chilled Cloud, and his heart ached for the young girl whose homeland had been desecrated. After she had left, the remaining members of Avalanche had held a grim, terse meeting. They knew Jenova had destroyed Wutai, and they knew that it would not be content to leave well enough alone. That meant it would be heading for civilization, and the nearest form of that was ...

"Rocket Town." Cid said darkly. 

His mood was shared by each and every one of the others. They all looked to Cloud for the final decision; he gave a slow nod, and the pilot of the airship, looking on nervously, adjusted their course.

They dispersed then, knowing that the final confrontation was at hand and needing their own space to privately prepare. Cloud returned to the front of the bridge, staring with unseeing eyes at the land speeding by so far below. He wondered where Sephiroth was, and what he was doing. Probably with what had once been Aeris, praying for guidance. The thought twisted his mouth in a snarl. He could not treat this Sephiroth any different than the other, could not bring himself to forget what had transpired. The fact that Aeris had chosen to speak with her murderer infuriated him. Why not speak to him, to Cloud? Why not speak to the one who loved her so very much? She hadn't, he reminded himself harshly. She had remained silent, and spoken with the one man he hated more than anything in this world. And while he wanted to be angry with her spirit, he couldn't. She was forever pure, forever innocent in his mind. 

She was forever loved.

He was shaken from his reverie by a cry from one of the crewmen. His eyes shot into focus, and what he said made him weak with terror. 

Looming before the airship, wingspan shadowing the entire sky, was Jenova.

_Hideous,_ Cloud thought. Hideous, monstrous, horrifying. Even those words fell short of describing the huge mass of flesh, muscle and bone that flew before them. It's misshapened mouth opened, revealing rows of uneven, protruding teeth. The sound that came forth dropped Cloud to his knees. Screams erupted from behind him; cries of absolute torment and fear. Struggling to his feet he turned to see the pilot's body fold in on itself, reshape itself, muscles and bone turned to liquid. 

Jenova shreiked again. More crewman fell. Cloud staggered backwards as the airship shuddered violently. He made a desperate leap for the flight controls ...

_Agony. Terror. Sorrow._

They began to fall.


End file.
